


choices

by pranito, sadomasochism



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, F/M, M/M, Mild Gore, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-06-29 16:22:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19833958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pranito/pseuds/pranito, https://archiveofourown.org/users/sadomasochism/pseuds/sadomasochism
Summary: Sistine Potter has always worked tirelessly to live outside her brother's shadow. Her best friends, Aidan and Amelia, as well as the love of her life, Draco Malfoy, have continuously backed her efforts. But when Draco's best mate Dante starts to act up, Sistine must choose between achieving her own goals or caring for the people who love her. And her decision could change the Hogwarts dynamic forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time putting real effort into a fanfic so please be nice y'all :,)  
> co-authored with the lovely sadomasochism (no return, eyes)  
> title inspired by the famous dumbly quote: "it is our choices that show us who we truly are far more than our own abilities."

“Is that ratty old sock done yet?” Sistine Potter muttered, sweeping a lock of her black hair out of her face. Her feline-like grey eyes glimmered in the candlelight, catching the attention of a certain Slytherin prince. “I’ll be Head Auror by the time he stops monologuing.”

  
Draco Malfoy stifled a laugh. Harry Potter scowled at the both of them, wiping his spectacles with the corner of his robes. The enchanted ceiling glittered with the colors of the night sky, casting a glow over the crowd of first-years clustered in the front.

  
“The Sorting Hat usually has some sort of forewarning. It would do you both some good to listen for once,” Harry shot at them. His little sister and her older lackey could be so irritating sometimes.

  
Sistine rolled her eyes at her brother’s haughty display of wisdom. He sounded like the back of a Chocolate Frog card. Just because everyone kissed his feet didn’t mean he was too good for banter. “Says you. Still got that Chimaera burn, Haz?”

  
He resisted the urge to give her the finger. “Sod off, you prat.”

  
“Good evening, students and professors,” came Dumbledore’s voice, echoing through the Great Hall. “I would like to welcome you all to the start of another year here at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. To remind you all, the third floor corridor in the West Wing is still, for the fourth year in a row, off-limits, unless you would like to die a most painful death. Also, Mr. Filch has asked me to reiterate the fact that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off-limits to all students.” He shot a look towards the Slytherin table.

  
“Practically our school motto, eh, Haz?” Sistine deadpanned, recalling Harry’s encounter with Aragog and his children that not even several utterances of _Arania exumai_ could erase. Harry frowned at her, then turned his attention back to Dumbledore. “We should be called ‘Hogwarts School of Harry Potter Breaks the Rules and Gets Away With It’.”

  
“I could say the same for you,” he said, rolling his eyes whilst sipping his pumpkin juice.

  
“On another note, some words of advice,” Dumbledore continued, looking pensive as ever. “It does best to remember that the loveliest roses bloom in the most unexpected gardens. And the strongest magic comes not from the wand, but from the heart. There is no magic stronger than the bond between people, whatever drives it. With that, let the feast… begin!”

  
With the spreading of his arms came the sudden appearance of platters upon platters of food — roast beef; shepherd’s pie; turkey legs; potatoes, both roasted and mashed; several different types of roasted vegetables, and enough desserts to make the sweets cart on the Hogwarts Express turn over on its wheels. The three revelled at the glory in front of them and began to pile food onto their plates.

  
Malfoy set his fork and knife down on his plate in their proper positions, as Narcissa, his mother, had trained him to do. “Good heavens, Potter, were you born in a barn?”

  
“For your information, Malfoy, I was raised in a castle. This castle, to be precise,” Harry snapped through a bite of roast beef, relishing the opportunity to remind everyone within earshot of his unusually lavish childhood. “So shut your mouth.”

  
Draco shook his head and turned back to his plate, brushing off the retort. From his right came a fork, skewering a piece of his apple pie before darting back to its owner and straight into her mouth.

  
Sistine laughed, handlessly wiping the crumbs off her face with her table napkin. “Good, huh? Been practicing since yesterday. Mum was absolutely pissed when her carrot cake got holes in it.”

  
“Not everyone spends their time with a textbook crammed up their arse,” Pansy Parkinson butted in from across the table, ever eager to get Draco to so much as look at her.

  
“One more word and I’ll jam one up yours, you week-old bucket of mop water,” Sistine snarled, reaching for her ebony wand, ever the fighter. Pansy reached for her own wand to jinx Sistine, but stopped when she saw McGonagall watching her like a hawk. Sistine smirked, before whispering, “ _Steleus_!” as Pansy took a bite out of a turkey leg.

  
The older girl sneezed her food back onto her plate with a shrill cry. The first-year Slytherins shrieked. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle howled with laughter. Blaise Zabini applauded. Draco bit his lip, suppressing a smile. “There’s a good reason why those books stays up your arse, isn’t there?” he mumbled into Sistine’s ear as he reached across her for the gravy boat. A shiver ran down her spine. “Little Miss I-Got-An-Outstanding-On-All-My-O.W.L.s.”

  
She grinned and nodded, and exposed the inside of her robes. Draco nearly gasped.

  
Her wand was still in its pocket.

  
Sistine Potter was best known for several things, none of which included her being Harry Potter’s little sister. In fact, no one really associated the two together; she worked tirelessly to exist outside of her brother’s shadow.

  
When Harry became the youngest Slytherin Seeker in a century, Sistine made it a point to later become the youngest Chaser, proving herself worthy of the title of best female to ever play for Slytherin. He was quick to show his disapproval, and she took it upon herself to outperform him in every game they ever played.

  
Whereas Harry worked harder, she worked smarter. By her second year, she could conjure a Patronus — a fluffy little bunny, much to her dismay — and was able to charm her way into Professor Slughorn’s highly exclusive Duelling Club, meant for third years and higher, where she (on multiple occasions) made Pansy Parkinson live up to her name, Confunding her mid-strike.

  
No doubt Sistine’s ferocious drive and impressive skill gave her enough to rise to the top of the Hogwarts social order, and grabbed the attention of teachers and students alike. She was always first choice, and her peers despised her for it, both secretly and openly. But it was the price she had to pay to be the best.

  
Sistine Potter was the Slytherin with the most potential. She could go either way; sometimes she was cruel and spiteful, other times she was rather nice, but acting on her own personal agenda. She was everything a true Slytherin should be — resourceful, cunning, ambitious, and she made every move like she was playing a constant game of wizard’s chess.

Draco Malfoy, on the other hand, had no such luxury. From birth, he was being told what to do, and when and how to do it. Even from Azkaban, his father’s grip around his neck was tight, and unpleasant.

  
The expectations were getting higher and higher each day, despite the Dark Lord being gone. Draco was meant to uphold his family’s pureblood beliefs, and he was getting sick of it. The clock was ticking; his parents were arranging for him to marry another pureblood girl, and the thought of it made his own blood curdle like Bolognese sauce. Ironically, that was his favorite dish.

\- - -

  
“How do you eat so much and stay so slim?” asked Aidan Blythe to Amelia Madden, both of them Ravenclaws, Prefects, and Sistine’s best friends.

  
Amelia smirked as she shoveled roast chicken into her mouth. Her chestnut brown hair was tied up in a high ponytail to prevent it from catching crumbs as she devoured the delicious Hogwarts food. “Genes, I guess. But you’re quite lean yourself, stop complaining. Enjoy the food, we won’t get this much until the end of the year.”

  
Aidan had barely been eating for fear of gaining weight; as this was their sixth year, the only exercise he would get would be around Quidditch games, since he was Keeper. Otherwise, he’d be studying his arse off to pass his N.E.W.T.s. Aidan had achieved 12 Outstanding O.W.L.s last year, and he was determined to maintain the standard he had set for himself.

  
An Indian boy with a white name like Aidan, he had never had it easy. He was tormented by the other brown kids in Gloucestershire, but couldn’t seem to fit in with the white crowd. He was shunned by the straight community; it was hard, liking boys in conservative Britain. He had had to work his way to the top, never stopping in order to prove himself. It had taken five years at Hogwarts to allow him to feel comfortable in his skin, but even then he was still slightly paranoid. Amelia had to constantly remind him that he could be who he was at Hogwarts; however, since she was heterosexual and white with a proper name, she couldn’t understand what he went through.

  
Hesitantly, he rolled back the sleeves of his robes and began to eat.

  
At last, after the last few pieces of treacle tart had been wolfed down and the plates and goblets recalled to the kitchens, the students traipsed to their respective common rooms, tired and with full bellies. Aidan lifted the eagle knocker and knocked twice.

  
“A woman shoots her husband, holds him under water for 5 minutes, then hangs him. They enjoy dinner together afterwards. How is this possible?” the eagle said in a soothing voice.

  
“Easy. The husband is being photographed and the photo is being developed.” Aidan drawled. He just wanted to go to bed. The eagle tutted indignantly, as though it thought the riddle should’ve been harder, but the door swung backwards and the seventy Ravenclaw students, lead by their Prefects, filed into the common room.

\- - -

“Why are we in the dungeons?” asked a clueless first year.

  
“It’s where everyone thinks we belong,” Blaise muttered.

  
Sistine chuckled. “If it were up to Madam Pince, I’d be in Azkaban.”

  
“You did trick her into giving you the keys to the restricted section.”

  
“She was so upset with herself that she let me keep them.”

  
“What’s Azkaban?” the same first year yelled.

  
Draco sighed from the front of the pack. “If you ask me another question, Ramsey, I’ll personally feed you to Aragog.”

  
“Who’s Aragog?” the boy asked.

  
Before Draco could whip out his wand, Sistine stopped him. “I’ll handle it, Dray.” She turned to the mousy eleven-year-old. “ _Silencio_.”

  
“You’re not a Prefect, you can’t —”

  
She looked at him pointedly. “And you can?”

  
He refused to smile, instead shaking his head and leading the students down the final flight of stairs.

  
Draco bade Dante Cromwell, his best friend and a Hufflepuff Prefect, goodnight as they separated in the dungeons. He yawned the password, “Ophidian,” and the door slid open. Sistine half-crawled down the stairs to the left for the girls’ dormitories, bidding the others goodnight, and Draco and Harry headed to the right.

  
There on her bed laid her sleeping white Persian cat, Artemis. She gently levitated Artemis to the rug, kicked off her shoes, and climbed in, not even bothering to change into her nightgown.

  
“You reckon we won’t be getting into trouble this year, Artie?”

  
The cat seemed to snort. Sistine copied the sound. “Right. Of course not.”

  
And with that, she fell asleep, once again dreaming of Draco Malfoy, gazing at his reflection, an arm around her, in the Mirror of Erised.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McGonagall takes Sistine under her wing when she finds out about her wandless magic. Aidan is continuously flustered by Draco's attractiveness. Sistine fucks around with Flitwick.

Sistine stabbed her spoon into her bowl of apple porridge with more force than necessary. She’d already been in an awful mood since that nightmare from that morning had interrupted her fantasy of Draco conjuring a field of daisies for her.

“Oi, you lot, it’d do bloody well if you both would stop making gaga eyes at Draco,” she spat for what seemed like the thousandth time at her two best friends. Aidan and Amelia could be so irritating sometimes.

Amelia laughed. “We know you called bagsy on Malfoy the day we got on the Hogwarts Express.”

“Did not,” the younger Potter cried through a mouthful of hard-boiled egg.

“Too bad he’s bagsied your brother,” Aidan clarified.

“Has not!” Sistine slammed her fist onto the table. A group of scared first-years flinched. She cleared her throat. “As I was saying —”

Aidan chuckled into his bangers and mash and gazed at Draco; his pale-blonde hair seemed to glow platinum in the sunlight emanating from the stained-glass windows of the Great Hall. However, the Malfoy boy only had eyes for Sistine; he ogled her, glossy black hair, eyes grey as the sky over the Great Lake and all.

“I’ll see you guys in Charms later; I need to go to the library and clear my head,” Aidan mumbled feverishly. He dashed off, leaving Sistine and Amelia confused in his wake.

“Who spit in his porridge?” Sistine asked, downing her glass of orange juice.

“He who asks is he who commits,” Amelia replied, stacking her empty plates one atop the other.

Before Sistine could get another word out, someone placed a hand on her shoulder. She whirled around and rose to her feet; not just anyone could come into physical contact with her. “What in Merlin’s beard — oh! Draco… hi!”

“Slughorn will have your head if he catches you dining with another house,” he muttered, his odd way of hinting that she should have had breakfast with him. “And only cockroaches can live headless.”

“Says the man who spends all his time with a bloody Hufflepuff!” exclaimed Sistine.

“As I recall, you were friends with Dante, too, little girl,” he chided, tucking strands of her hair behind her ear.

“The key word there is ‘ _were_ ,’ Mr. Malfoy,” she retorted, jabbing her finger into his solid chest with each syllable of his name. She hid her surprise. He really was a man. “And if you spent less time jamming your head up Astoria Greengrass’ sorry excuse of an arse, you would realize that it’s for good reason I no longer associate with that knobhead… although they do say that you are who your friends are.”

He grabbed her wrist, mid-jab. “If I were you, Miss Potter…” He raised her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on her middle finger. “I would _behave_.”

“ _Miss POTTER_!” McGonagall shrieked, her robes rippling around her as she brushed through a crowd of students making their way out of the Great Hall. She came to a stop at the middle of the Ravenclaw table.

Sistine immediately straightened out her uniform skirt, pulling it down to a suitable length. “Yes, Professor?”

The Transfiguration professor turned to Draco. “Mr. Malfoy, you may go.”

Draco shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “‘Fraid not, Professor. Whatever you say to Sistine, you can say to me.”

“Five points from Slytherin for that cheek. If you don’t go now it will be more.”

Draco skulked off, shoving his hands in his pants pockets. “Catch you at dinner, pet.”

Sistine frowned, upset to see him go so soon. “What is it, Professor? Or are you looking for my mum?”

McGonagall stood akimbo, staring the girl down through the lenses of her spectacles. “Does your mother know you practice wandless magic, Miss Potter?”

“She does _what_?” James Potter interrupted, striding over to the two, looking rather windswept.

“Dad? What’re you doing here?” Sistine asked, giving her father a hug before fixing his hair for him. “Does Mum know you’re not at work?”

“She knows ‘m here, silly goose. On official Ministry duty, you see.” He turned to the older woman with a flourish and a bow. “Professor McGonagall.”

McGonagall refused to crack the smile threatening to spread itself across her face. “Mr. Potter. Professor Dumbledore is waiting for you in his office.”

James grinned, the spitting image of the portrait of the boy in the Gryffindor Quidditch trophy case. “Just like the good old days, eh?”

“Just like now, considering you’ve managed to create two clones of yourself. Off with you, before I start taking points from your house.”

James laughed and gave her a mock salute. “Aye.” He ruffled Sistine’s hair with the fondness one displays towards a puppy. “Good on you, Sis. You’re as talented as your mum, if not more. But don’t tell her I said that!”

His daughter giggled. “I won’t, Dad. See you later.”

“Be good, pumpkin.” He winked, and was off toward the West Wing in search of the Headmaster.

“I’ll do my best.”

McGonagall cleared her throat, guiding Sistine towards the Clocktower Courtyard and away from any eavesdropping students. “As I was saying, _wandless magic_. A witch of your age normally does not have such power to do so, especially with something as specific as a Sneezing Hex.”

Sistine looked more smug in that moment than the time she won a bet with Harry over who could last in the Forbidden Forest the longest. “I’ve been working on it all summer, Professor.”

The woman nodded. “That I can tell. On your poor brother, I assume.”

Sistine snorted. “I do nothing that no one doesn’t deserve. Pansy Parkinson walked right into that sneeze.”

The corners of McGonagall’s mouth quirked up slightly, smile lines beginning to embed themselves in her skin. “I know. Not everyone has the courage to stand up to someone in their own house.”

The girl shrugged. “If you’re a git, Professor, then you’re a git. Slytherin or not.”

“You would have been a great addition to my house, Ms. Potter.” Sistine preened, blushing ever so slightly. “Thank you, Professor, but the Sorting Hat told me I’d stop at nothing to get what I want.”

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. “Then I assume you would not turn down the offer to practice your wandless magic under me?”

Sistine was finally caught off-guard. “B-but… Professor Slughorn — ”

“ — Can’t even turn a matchstick into a needle without a wand. And between the two of us, it would be wise not to let your Head of House know the extent of your capabilities. You know his tendency to ‘collect people’.” McGonagall glanced over at him disapprovingly; he stood under a tree, gloating to a few first-years who didn’t know any better.

She nodded. “Of course, Professor. Thank you.”

“Ten points to Slytherin for a display of interest in the pursuit of magical excellence. Now off to class with you.”

\- - -

Aidan sat in the library, flipping through a book of charms and potions. Studying always helped take his mind off things, but today in particular he had a tough time not thinking about Draco. He hated the fact that with a simple smirk Draco could bring him to his knees; he felt so powerless around the Malfoy boy. Madam Pince ushered him out of the library when the bell rang; he headed off to Charms with the Slytherins. He was in such a hurry that he didn’t see Draco standing a few paces in front of him. They collided and each fell hard onto the stone floor.

“What the bloody hell, Blythe? Watch where you’re going.” Draco stood and held out a hand to help Aidan up, and immediately walked away.

“I — erm — sorry —” Aidan stuttered out before hearing his name called out by Amelia.

“Aidan! You gave us quite a turn when you rushed off to the library like that. What was that about?” Amelia asked. She looked at him, analyzing his flushed face and sweaty cheeks. She turned and saw Draco’s tall figure rounding the corner and immediately understood.

Amelia smiled and said, “Come on, we’d better get to Charms, old Flitty won’t forgive N.E.W.T. students for being late, even if they are from his own house.”

They sped off to the east tower and found Sistine already waiting for them in the classroom, idly twirling her wand around her fingers.

“Where were you guys? I saved you seats over here.” With a wave of her wand, her textbooks stacked themselves neatly by her feet. She patted the now-empty bench next to her.

“Bit of a run-in with Draco, nothing to wet yourself over,” Amelia snapped breathlessly, face red from the trek up the stairs.

Sistine smirked. “I’ll have you know, that’s the only thing that gets me wet.”

The two groaned in disgust.

Flitwick climbed up onto the tower of books he needed to see over his lectern. “Today we will be attempting to turn vinegar into wine. The incantation and technique may be found on page 248 of your textbooks. And remember: N.E.W.T. exams are nonverbal, so try as hard as you can to stay silent as you cast your spells, as such.” He turned to a glass of vinegar on his desk and waved his wand; it turned into a crimson liquid, and the class applauded politely. “You may begin!” Flitwick squeaked.

“Oi,” Sistine whispered, placing a stack of coins on the tabletop. “I’ll give 5 Galleons to whoever drinks the vinegar.”

Amelia immediately took up the challenge, but Aidan frowned and said, “You two can fool around as much as you’d like; I’m here to pass my N.E.W.T.s if you don’t mind.” He turned to page 248 and began to study the spell. He pulled out his wand, concentrated on the flask, and, without speaking, turned the vinegar into wine on his first try.

“Look here, everyone! Mr. Blythe has done it! Well done, ten points to Ravenclaw and full marks! Follow his example, students. I have high hopes for this one!” Flitwick enunciated.

“Prat,” Sistine muttered, but nevertheless turned to her own glass of vinegar and began practicing. The vinegar turned blood red. She raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Potter?” Flitwick called, dreading whatever words should fall past the Slytherin girl’s lips.

Sistine tapped her wand against the glass. “Is this wine drinkable?”

“Yes, but I would — Miss Potter!”

Sistine downed the liquid in one gulp and wrinkled her face. “Blech. Professor, you were wrong. I’ve had troll bogey-flavored Bertie Bott’s, and those tasted better.”

Flitwick was stunned. “I — Ten points from —”

She cocked her head to one side like a rattlesnake facing a charmer, daring him to strip Slytherin of house points. “Go ahead, sir. Try it.”

Warily, Flitwick raised his goblet to his lips. Seconds later, he made the same face Sistine had, and muttered the incantation to turn the remaining wine to water to wash down the putrid aftertaste the so-called wine had left. “Five points to Slytherin for inquisitive learning. Class dismissed.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3rd chappy enjoy :)  
> we have no idea where we’re going with the plot so if you’re lost dw so are we

Ron and Hermione had always had a rocky friendship. Both had feelings for the other, but neither was willing to break first. “Like _Beauty and the Beast_ , but without the Stockholm Syndrome,” as Sistine once put it.

Sure, they’d been through several near-death adventures with one another (and Harry, of course) and knew each other better than anyone else, but something was always causing them to get cross with one another. Little did they know it was because they cared so much. Too much, really.

“Oi, Sis,” Ron called across the Clocktower Courtyard, leaving an annoyed Hermione frowning into her Divination textbook, in order to catch up with the petite brunette.

Sistine unlinked arms with the Slytherin prince, much to his dismay — and hers, too. “Yes, Ronald? Can I help you? Before you ask, no, I don’t know where Haz is.”

“N-no, it’s not that.” He looked sheepish. “I, uh, I… need to call in that favor.”

Draco frowned, crossing his arms and puffing his chest out ever so slightly. He turned to the girl. “You owe Weasley a favor? Why? What for?”

She nodded, tapping her foot. Defense Against the Dark Arts started in fifteen minutes, and Uncle Moony would not be happy about her being late. “Yes, but it was worth it.”

“Now, what could possibly be worth owing a ginger a favor?”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Again with the ginger jokes, Malfoy?”

Sistine laughed. “Not our fault you don’t have a soul. Anyways, Draco, I owe Ron because I asked for his brother Charlie, y’know, the one in Romania, yeah, the one he never shuts up about. Anyways, I asked for his help.”

Draco wasn’t quelled with her explanation. “With what, exactly?”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, clutching her books tighter to her chest. “I wanted a dragon egg.”

“A WHAT?” he roared, ever so protective of the girl.

Several students turned to ogle at the tall blond.

“Shush. Did I stutter?” She turned back to Ron. “How can I be of service?”

“Hermione.”

“Want me to turn her into a bat?” Sistine asked, reaching for her wand. “Because I will, that smug insufferable know-it—”

“Sis, no! I — I like her.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, scratching the back of his head.

“No shit,” Draco scoffed, eager to be rid of the Weasley boy. “And you need Sistine’s help with that?”

“Yes Draco, because not everyone gets off just on money and infamy,” Ron retorted, ready to shove his wand up Malfoy’s arse. “What did you do, buy your way into becoming a Prefect? Bet you paid Sistine to like you, too.”

“Ron,” Sistine began, standing between the two boys. “Don’t make me hex you again.”

“Again?” Draco asked. “Sistine, as a Prefect, it’s my job to — ”

“ — Keep your mouth shut. Ron, I’ll brew you a love potion.”

The redhead contemplated that offer before shaking his head. “No. I want her to like me naturally.”

She smiled. “Then stop being a git.”

“Touché. Let me know what you come up with.” Ron stalked off back to Hermione. 

Sistine headed with Draco in the other direction. He elbowed her arm. “Why d’you talk to him? He’s a Weasley, he comes from dirt.”

“Draco, I don’t think you remember that you’re his third cousin, you idiot,” Sistine said through a fit of laughter. Draco had evidently forgotten that all pureblood families are related; something Ron, on the other hand, never stopped complaining about, because he, Ron Weasley, was slightly related to the god-awful Malfoys.

“At least I’m not a ginger.” 

Sistine groaned, pinching him in his side.

“I heard that!” came Ron’s voice, echoing through the corridors.

Draco chuckled. “I’ll see you after class. Don’t get into too much trouble, yeah?”

“No promises, love. Cheers!” Sistine hurried to catch up with Aidan and Amelia for a word before they went their separate ways for class, but she was cut off by Harry, whose ears emanated steam as he watched Draco ascend the nearest staircase.

“What d’you think you’re doing, messing around with Draco? Trust me Sis, I’ve taken a bite out of that poison apple. You don’t want to be caught up in his muck.”

“Piss off, Haz, we haven’t done anything yet. We’re just flirting, let me live my life.”

Sistine stormed off, leaving Harry worried and upset. He didn’t want a Malfoy hurting yet another Potter. He went to go talk to Ron and Hermione about his concern for his sister.

\- - -

Hours later, during dinner, Draco stormed into the Great Hall. He marched his way right up to the Ravenclaw table to confront Sistine’s friends, the bespectacled girl and the quiet boy. “You two!”

Heads snapped up in all directions, but were quickly lowered when met with the sight of the fuming Malfoy. Aidan pointed to himself. “M-me?”

“Who am I looking at?” Draco barked.

Aidan was on the verge of fainting. Amelia gulped. “Y-yes, Draco?” Without their best friend, they were defenseless from the wrath of the Slytherin, whose anger was unpredictable and whose wand was always itching to be used.

“Where’s Sistine?”

“W-we thought she was w-with you,” Aidan mumbled, unable to look Draco in his steely, unforgiving glare.

Draco laughed, a harsh, mocking tone. “Does it look like she’s with me?”

“What’s going on here?” asked another voice. Draco turned around. It was Dante, and he was by no means amused that Draco had been off doing his own thing since the start of their last term at Hogwarts. “Draco, what’s the matter with you? Can’t find anyone else to pick on?”

“I can’t find Sistine,” the Malfoy boy replied, too preoccupied to look at his best friend. “Don’t be a twat.”

“Oh. Well. I can’t help you there,” Dante replied indifferently. Draco glanced up and saw the look of disturbance on his friend’s face.

“Since when was she a touchy subject for you?”

“Touchy? He wishes he touched her,” Aidan whispered to Amelia. Dante heard this remark, grumbled something inaudible, and stomped off back to the Hufflepuff table.

Aidan couldn’t hold back his laughter at his own joke, causing Draco to scowl at him once more. “What’s the matter with you?”

He shook his head quickly. “Nothing.”

Ron came over, sliding his plate and goblet next to Aidan. The Ravenclaw gulped. He had a crush on Ron, too. “Looking for Sistine, Malfoy?”

“Yeah,” Draco replied, wasting no time in verbally sparring with the Gryffindor, as he would normally indulge in. “Know where she is?”

“Sure I do. Lemme finish my food, and we’ll go.” Ron continued to chew on his lamb chop, shoveling scoops of mashed potatoes between bites. “She’s been waiting for us.”

“No time, Weasley. We’re going now.” Draco reached for Ron’s arm and began pulling him off the bench.

“Wait!” Amelia interjected, jumping to Draco’s side. “We’ll come, too! Won’t we, Aidan?” She kicked the boy in the shin. “Right?”

“Oh! Oh, yeah! Wait for us!” He scrambled out of his seat.

Ron led them to the Forbidden Forest. The four of them had been in so many times that it didn’t daunt them even a little; they were more advanced in their magic now than the time Aidan fell into a troll’s den. They walked into a clearing, where Sistine sat on a boulder, with a cauldron nicked from the Potions classroom boiling over a fire.

“Dinner is served,” she quipped, adding a vial of mermaid’s tears to the liquid.

“Sistine, what in Merlin’s pants are you doing here?” Amelia asked, shocked. A sharp cracking sound was coming from inside the cauldron.

“Quiet, Amelia. You’ll see in a minute.” Sistine tossed a jar’s worth of Sphynx dung into the broth, which immediately started bubbling and frothing.

The mixture promptly exploded. Aidan had just enough time to cast _Protego_ around the four of them before it burned their skin off, and as Sistine had apparently shielded herself beforehand, she emerged unscathed as well.

In the middle of the clearing stood a baby Antipodean Opaleye. It let out a tiny bark.

“Sistine, you absolute tosser!” Amelia yelled. “A bloody dragon!”

The girl merely beamed at the dragon before her, eyes sparkling in delight as she jumped off the boulder. She approached the creature, arms outstretched. “I think I’ll call you… Saphira?”

It hissed, before nuzzling up to her open palm.

\- - -

“What the bloody fuck, Sistine? A fucking dragon? Are you insane?” yelled Amelia, unable to control her shock. “This is why you were coordinating with Ron last year, isn’t it? I bet you asked Charlie for this, you complete maniac.”

Aidan slowly walked up to the dragon. “She’s beautiful,” he said breathlessly. “I’ve never seen an Opaleye in person, only in _The Monster Book of Monsters_.” He lit a circle of flames with his wand around it to keep it warm. It immediately curled up and fell asleep.

Draco shook his head in disapproval, trying to hide his pride. “I can’t believe you, Sis.”

“Now you’re not the only reptile in my life,” she cooed, squishing his cheeks together in one hand. He took her hand off and held it in his own much larger one.

“This is dangerous,” he said, locking eyes with her.

“Finally, something sensible comes out of your mouth,” Ron commented.

Draco turned to him, fuming. “You’re one to talk. _You_ were the one who got Sistine that egg in the first place!”

Ron held up his hands, as if to claim innocence. “She _asked_ me for it!”

“You could have said _no_!” Draco snapped.

“I needed her help! I still do!”

“So you traded a dragon for who? Granger? That bossy, arrogant, no-good —”

“ _Flipendo!_ ” Draco was immediately knocked back a good fifteen feet.

Enraged, he drew his own wand out. “You’ll regret that, Weasley. _Incatena!”_

Chains flew out of the end of Draco’s wand and began snaking their way around Ron’s extremities, choking him as they undulated.

“Stop. Stop!” shrieked Amelia. Aidan and Sistine ran forward and shouted “ _Stupefy!”_ together. Both Ron and Draco flew backwards. Amelia yelled “ _Relashio!_ ” and the chains binding Ron subsided.

They thought it was over. They were wrong.

“Ah-ha!” cried a familiar, irritating voice. Pansy Parkinson and her vile tumor of a friend Astoria Greengrass stepped into the clearing. “So this is what you’ve been hiding! I have a duty as Prefect to report you to the administration right now, and possibly even to the Ministry itself!” she yelled triumphantly. 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you do that,” Sistine said, drawing her wand out. “Ron, Draco, Amelia, please take Saphira elsewhere. Maybe to Aragog, I don’t know. I’ll find you. Aidan, help me take out the trash.”

Amelia stamped out the remaining embers of the fire, and Draco and Ron carried the Opaleye deeper into the forest.

Aidan bounded forward, excited and yearning to vent his frustration at the Slytherin Prefect and her friend.

Sistine cleared her throat, drawing Pansy’s attention. “Over here, you cross-eyed twit.”

The four stared each other down, daring each other to make the first move. Suddenly, Pansy turned on her heel and attempted to run back to the castle to report Sistine and her friends to the nearest authority figure.

Aidan cast a clever entrapment charm, and Pansy bounced off the barrier and fell hard onto the forest floor.

“You’ll pay for that, scum. _Incendio!”_ Pansy shrieked.

Aidan and Sistine dived to avoid the flames; while Sistine extinguished them, Aidan sent a Stunning Spell at Pansy, which was blocked by Astoria. 

Jets of red and white light filled the clearing; none were willing to yield. Shouts of “ _Deprimo!”_ and “ _Everte Statum!”_ came from both sides.

“I got this.” Sistine charged at Pansy. “ _Confringo!_ ”

Pansy was livid. “ _CRUCIO!”_

With a flick of her wand, Sistine wordlessly constructed a brick wall in front of her to block the Unforgivable Curse; it exploded upon impact, and Sistine flew ten feet, hit the back of her head on a tree, and lay still. Aidan screamed.

“Pansy…” Astoria began. “Is she… is she dead?”

The two Slytherins made their way across the ring of trees. Sistine was face up, eyes shut, still grasping her wand. As they laid down their wands to see if she was okay, her eyes shot open. 

“You should know better than to show weakness, you disgraceful excuses for Slytherins. _Rictusempra!_ ” They flew backwards and landed, trying not to piss themselves from laughing. The Tickling Charm was unorthodox, but it worked in a pinch.

Aidan seized the opportunity. “ _Petrificus Totalus_!” he yelled. Pansy and Astoria keeled over as the Full-Body Bind Curse took effect.

Sistine strolled over smugly. “They’re called Unforgivables for a reason. Don’t think I’ll ever forget this. Although you certainly will.” She stepped on Pansy’s wand hand and broke each and every one of her fingers.

Aidan and Sistine silently waved their wands; Pansy and Astoria’s eyes glazed over, and they simply went unconscious. 

“I hope Saphira doesn’t wake up before you gits do.”

Draco came running back into the clearing, tailed by Amelia and Ron. “What happened?”

“We dueled them, obviously,” Sistine answered. She pointed at the frozen bodies of the two girls. “Then, well, have a look for yourself. What’d you reckon we do here?”

“Bring them back to the castle,” Amelia suggested, preparing to cast a Mobility Charm.

“I’d sooner jump in the Great Lake,” Sistine snorted, kicking Astoria’s ankle.

“Leave them here,” Ron said darkly. “They’ll wake up eventually.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. “Come on,” urged Draco, wrapping a protective arm around Sistine. “We need to leave.”

The group dodged the Whomping Willow on the shortcut back to the castle, and slipped in undetected by the Prefects on duty, Filch, or worse, Peeves.

“Where did you leave Saphira?” Sistine whispered to Draco, once they were settled in the common room, sitting by the fireplace. 

“I gave her to Firenze.” The glow of the enchanted coals made him look impossibly angelic.

“Very funny, Draco.” She paused, realizing that he was not, in fact, joking. “Oh… oh. Well, let’s hope he doesn’t eat her.” She raised her stein of Butterbeer, which she’d mixed with a shot of Firewhisky, towards him. “Cheers.”

He rolled his eyes, but toasted her nonetheless. “You little troublemaker.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco bites off a little more than he can chew when he takes a stroll through Dante's memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (tw // mild sexual violence)
> 
> STILL no cohesive plot enjoy this roller coaster

“Professor, hypothetically —”

McGonagall waited for the rest of the girl’s sentence. She really was just like her father.

“Hypothetically, if one uses an Unforgivable curse on another in a duel, but this one manages to later Obliviate they who cast the curse and thus render them with no recollection of ever cursing the latter, how would one, for lack of a better phrase, receive an eye for an eye?”

This was far different than becoming an unregistered Animagus.

“Miss Potter, what on Earth are you implying? Did you curse another student?”

Sistine shook her head. “No, Professor. It’s… just a question. There’s nothing in the rulebook about something like that. I just thought you’d know. I couldn’t really ask Slughorn, you see, what with him not being as… competent of a mentor as you.”

“Well, in that case, hypothetically, there is no reason to forgive and forget. Unforgivable curses are aptly named for that reason. However, for one’s own sake, one must do both, and pretend as if nothing happened.”

“That — that’s _it_?”

“You are far too clever to waste your talent on revenge, Miss Potter. Many great wizards and witches of your house fail to realize this until it is too late. Now, back to the lesson at hand. If you succeed, we may spend the remaining time practicing human transfiguration.”

“Professor, _hypothetically_ , if one were to cast an Unforgivable curse, and it fails to work, why would that be the case?”

McGonagall looked at Sistine sharply, debating on whether or not she should divulge the secret. After moments had passed, she finally answered, “One has to _mean it_.”

\- - -

That afternoon, at lunch, Hermione cornered Sistine in the Great Hall.

“I know you were with him last night. He came back to the common room so late; I was worried sick! I don’t want your foulness anywhere near him, neither you nor your _boyfriend_ have even an ounce of the dignity he has. Harry really is the only decent Slytherin. The rest of you are all _evil_.”

Sistine turned around in her seat, swirling the pumpkin juice around in her goblet. “Pipe down, Granger. For one, _Harry_ is my _brother,_ so please watch your tone. I was with Ronald because he was worried you’d been acting rather… distant lately. He seems to trust me for whatever reason… maybe because I’m his best mate’s sister or what have you… and he told me that he very much likes you and wants to take it to the next level with you.” 

If cobras could smile, they would look like the expression Sistine came to wear as she continued to address the Gryffindor Head Girl. “I mean, come on, _seven_ years of classes and adventures together, you can’t expect the poor bloke not to fall in love with you. Plus, you’re the smartest witch in your year, and a dead knockout. I’m actually quite afraid Draco might fall in love with you instead of me.” Her nauseatingly sweet tone reverberated in Hermione’s mind, and she blushed under the weight of the compliments offered by the younger girl.

But something in Hermione’s mind clicked; she was not going to be so forgiving; not this time. Too many times had her niceness been taken advantage of; she was sick of it. Harry was always going on and on about how _conniving_ his sister was, and Hermione was not going to play the fool.

“You stupid little girl, don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to. I’m going to crush you under my boot like the bug you are. You’d better watch your back,” she spat, secretly glad Malfoy was nowhere within hearing range.

And with that, Hermione stormed off to the Room of Requirement to tell Harry and Ron about her encounter with the younger Potter.

While others would have trembled at the Muggle-born’s threat, Sistine laughed, slamming her Dark Arts textbook shut. “What a prat.”

Amelia sighed, enchanting her wavy brown hair into a topknot. “You really do have to make enemies with everyone, don’t you?”

She shrugged, tucking her notes back into her textbook. “It must be my curse. But I reckon Granger’s gone mad. Can’t blame her. N.E.W.T.s are a pain in the arse.”

“D-did she just call Draco your _boyfriend_?” Aidan asked, looking up from his Muggle Studies textbook.

Sistine grinned. “Clear as a Howler scream. She’s got a knack for Divination, that one.”

\- - -

While Hermione was busy threatening Sistine, Draco found himself cornered in the Owlery staircase.

“Where the hell were you last night? I was going out of my mind when Pansy told me you had gone down to the Forbidden Forest and hadn’t come back. Don’t you ever consider how your actions might affect others?” Dante yelled, distressed.

“Merlin’s beard Dante, why do I need to tell you everything I do? You’re not my mother,” retorted Draco. “At least she knows to leave me the fuck alone.”

“Fine. If you won’t tell me, I’ll figure it out myself. _Legilimens!_ ”

Draco laughed. “You’re pathetic. I’m a skilled Occlumens, you bellend; Bellatrix Lestrange herself trained me herself when I was little — before she went to Azkaban. Try all you want; you’re not getting in here.” He gestured to his temple with the tip of his hawthorn wand.

Dante angrily tried again and again. Draco began to tire of the constant shouts of “ _Legilimens!”_ ; he wished that Dante would choke on his tongue.

Finally, the blond had had enough. He pointed his wand at the other boy. “How about I see what’s in that great big melon of yours then? _Protego!”_

Draco found himself lying face-down on a beach. A few paces to the left were Dante and none other than Sistine. _God, she’s so beautiful,_ he thought.

This couldn’t have been earlier than last year. Sistine’s hair was still long; she’d cut it in the Prefects’ bathroom right before the commencement feast using nothing but ribbon and a precise " _Diffindo!_ ”

They seemed to be arguing about something, but Draco couldn’t hear over the roar of the waves hitting shore. He pulled himself off the sand and tread carefully over to where they were standing. 

“ — seems as if you’ve completely neglected our friendship! I don’t know what I did, but whatever it is I truly apologize, I just want everything to go back to the way it was!” Dante was yelling. 

“I simply don’t see a place for you in my life anymore. You tried to stop me from getting the dragon egg; you knew I wanted it, yet you still tried to prevent it from happening. I _know_ you were the one intercepting Ron’s owls to Charlie. I can’t risk having someone as opposed to my success as you in my life. However, I wish you the best.” Sistine turned and began walking away. 

“No, Sistine, please! I love you!” He yanked her by the arm and pulled her close, forcing his body weight against her, and smashed his lips to her own.

 _How dare he?_ Draco raised his wand, but realized that the curse about to exit his lips and rip Dante apart would have no effect in a memory. 

Sistine pushed him off immediately. “Dante… no. I don’t feel the same way. Especially not towards someone who subdues my ambition. I deserve better. I always do.”

“It’s because you love Draco, isn’t it?” he accused, approaching her once more. “You always have.”

She didn’t reply, choosing instead to look away and avoid his death stare.

He grabbed her by the throat and lifted her off the ground. She struggled for air, grasping his hand so as to pry it from around her neck, but he was much too strong for her. “Isn’t it?!” he roared.

Sistine grew limp. Dante dropped her onto the sand, and she collapsed into a fit of coughs. “How fucking dare you touch me? How dare you assume you are worthy of me? You are nothing! You are nothing compared to him! And you’re even more worthless now that you are of no use to me,” she croaked. “You know better than to get in my way. And yet you still did it.”

Dante, livid with hurt from being neglected by his best friend, whipped out his vine wand and cast a spell inaudible over the sound of the waves pummelling the seashore. Sistine flew twenty feet onto the other side of the beach. 

“I’ve had enough of you! You always were in his shadow!” she screamed. “ _Incarcerous!_ ”

Ropes flew out of the end of her ebony wand and snaked their way around Dante. With fire blazing in her eyes, Sistine stalked off, leaving Dante to suffocate under the tension of his restraints. 

Suddenly, Draco felt everything around him collapse, and he flew back into reality. He and Dante stared at one another in shock. The Hufflepuff promptly turned on his heel and sprinted away.  



End file.
